Stereotypes Anonymous
by MoonFire1
Summary: Why would the Ministry enact a marriage law? Would Snape be a good father? Does Tom Marvolo Riddle possess a heart? Let's find out, shall we?
1. A Marriage Law

Title: Stereotypes Anonymous

Rated: Teen

Disclaimer: They do not belong to me.

A/N: These will be drabbles - 100 or 200 words apiece - exploring various trends that I've seen in the fandom over the years.

Summary: Why would the Ministry enact a marriage law? Would Snape be a good father? Does Tom Marvolo Riddle possess a heart? Let's find out, shall we?

--

1. A Marriage Law

"This is utterly unacceptable," Harry Potter said, letting the Daily Prophet thump with vengeance on his kitchen table. "I defeated their bloody Dark Lord -- doing the work of far more experienced and better trained wizards -- and they believe they can continue to control and dictate what I do in my life?"

The law was simple upon examination: all witches and wizards of consensual age were required to marry or bond within a set period of time. Those not in compliance would be assigned a partner, and the marriages would be permanent. It was supposed to help restore "stability" and "normality" to the Wizarding World -- at least the British Wizarding World. The Americans, for example, had already informed Britain's Wizengamot that the new law was just the latest example why the colonists had rebelled in the first place.

(Of course, what did those bloody colonists know?)

Harry had only just begun considering what he would do in his life. He wanted to be seventeen. He could never manage to be completely carefree, but he greatly desired to learn what it would be like to be happy for a solid day.

It truly wasn't too much to ask.

The article in the Prophet had announced the latest match-ups and speculations about Harry's own status. He found himself furious over the insinuations that he would simply force himself on another by Ministry decree.

Harry wasn't nearly as unintelligent as he had pretended when it suited him at Hogwarts. He began to _plan._

_--  
_

Harry appeared before the Wizengamot shortly after his seventeenth birthday, his wand held loosely in hand.

"--Mr. Potter, you are not in compliance--SQUAWK!" A large chicken replaced the current Ministry mouthpiece. Harry's own mouth twitched -- he really needed to do something nice for Fred and George later.

"I will not comply with such a law," Harry responded steadily, "nor will I accept any Ministry-picked partner--"

"--you see?!" Dolores Umbridge stood, her hair tumbling down from its neat and tidy curls, a wild light shining in her eyes, "He has said he will not comply and therefore--"

"--because the Ministry is legalizing rape," Harry continued, causing a shocked silence to fall over the assembly. "The Ministry is requiring that all the marriages be legitimate, indicating consummation, and therefore putting one partner in the position to assault another, and the other in the position of accepting that assault, regardless of either's personal wishes or desires. This is normal in Wizarding society?" Disgusted sarcasm could be clearly heard in his voice. "I find myself feeling enormous respect for most Muggle societies now, as such measures are seen as barbaric."

Furious whispers broke out amongst the assembled wizards and witches. Harry watched, still keeping a casual hand on his wand.

To no one's surprise, the law was repealed, and measures eventually put into place to ensure that such would never be passed again, and also that those who had been put into compliance with the law could dissolve their unions if they so desired.

Harry had received many owls of gratitude in response, and each one made him shake his head in wonder. "Was I the only one who found it unacceptable?" He wondered out loud to Ron and Hermione (their marriage was one that they both had wanted) one day.

"No," Hermione replied after a thoughtful silence. "You were the only one willing to do something about it."

"That's truly regretful," Harry said, sipping at his tea. "Anyone could have pointed out the hypocrisy."

As usual, he had had to do someone else's work once again.

--TBC--


	2. Happily Ever After

Chapter Two - Happily Ever After

Disclaimer: They still do not belong to me.

A/N: Can everything honestly be sunshine, rainbows, and puppies?

---

"Harry, I don't understand why you won't talk to me anymore," Ginny said, laying a hand over one of his, her large brown eyes upset. "I thought that giving you space would---"

"Change my mind?" Harry finished her sentence, his tone mild. "All I needed was time to soothe my tormented, guilt-wracked soul? Or was it traumatized spirit?"

"That's hardly fair!" she retorted, her eyes flashing. "I've been terribly worried about you, and I would have been there with you had I known what you were doing."

Harry sighed but did not turn his hand over to link his fingers through hers, as he might have once before. "I know, Ginny, and I'm sorry for my irreverent attitude. You deserve better than that--"

"--don't tell me that there's something better than you. I refuse to believe it." Her voice, adamant as always, interrupted his speech. _As always._

"Don't presume that you know what it is that I am thinking," he responded, tone colder. She drew back, withdrawing her hand.

Harry had no desire to hurt Ginny. She truly was a wonderful girl, and there had been a time when she had been prominently featured on his mind. But that time had passed and he had changed. No one could do the things he had done, witnessed the sights he had seen, and come out on the other side unchanged.

She had represented normality.

Harry would never be normal.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, and she turned away, a tear streaking down one cheek.

"It's him, isn't it?"

"What?" Harry was confused.

"You feel guilty for _him._ You want him--"

"Snape is dead," Harry said, using the tone that Snape had once used to thwart Umbridge, "and no, I do not want him. I don't bloody well _know_ what I want, aside from simply desiring to . . . be."

She gave no answer and walked away.

Perhaps that was answer enough.

A Howler arrived later, courtesy of an outraged Molly Weasley. Harry incinerated it before it could begin spouting vile accusations and made himself a cup of tea.

_I just want to simply be._

---

"I forgave you, you know," Lily said to Severus, in the place that wizards went after death. Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter had seen the meeting place as King's Cross. Severus had seen his childhood home as it should have been, with Lily waiting.

"How fortunate for you," Severus sneered back, habitual, and watched Lily flinch at his words. "Did you believe the same for me?"

"I love him, Severus." The green eyes he had cherished turned flinty. "And for that, I do not apologize."

"Neither do I for despising your choice," he retorted blithely.

"And all that does is hurt you," she finished, her tone sad. She walked out of his house and took James Potter's arms. The other wizard met Severus's eyes levelly, the old arrogance and hatred banished from his gaze.

Severus watched the two of them walk away and found himself trapped in his own house, with his outraged cries to accompany him.

_Let go._

"I cannot!"

_Let go._

"I don't know how."

_Let go._

"Forgive me."

_LET. GO._

There was no time, in the place they existed. It was not the adventure Dumbledore had spoken of. It could have been a day, or it could have been a thousand years, before Severus set foot out of his house again, having released himself from his own shackles.

He had never been good at letting things go.

----

"What will you do now?" Ron's question should have annoyed Harry, but he found it strangely comforting.

"Quidditch?" The oddly normal answer drew a grin from his friend's face. Certainly the two of them had other things to do, now that they were both exiled from their other peers, courtesy of their former girlfriends, but as Harry had told Ginny at one time, it was good to simply _be._

He could figure out the rest of his life later.

--TBC--


	3. A Father Figure

Chapter Three -- A Father Figure

Disclaimer: Same song and dance.

A/N: Each chapter is an individual one-shot. I hope this clarifies any misunderstandings or confusion.

"---so you see, my boy, it appears that Professor Snape is, in fact, your father." Dumbledore concluded the tale of Harry's convulted parentage and looked at the young man expectantly. He had ignored Minerva's warnings and reservations about making this revelation ("Albus, you know how the two detest each other!") in favor of his own judgment. After all, the boy had never had a truly stable parental figure he could call his own, and now this was something that should make him happy.

At the very least, it should inspire a reaction.

Dumbledore had not been prepared for Harry to arch one eyebrow in a distinctly _Snapeish_ manner and reply, nonchalantly, "And the purpose to informing me of this is . . .?"

"I do not understand," Dumbledore replied, dumbfounded. "You will have a family now, one that will ---"

"--do nothing more than resent my very existence?" Harry's eyes were cold. "I forgot, Professor -- I already _have_ one like that. I don't very well fancy finding another."

"You give Professor Snape very little credit--"

"I'm giving him what little I can muster," Harry replied, the bitterness in his voice taking his headmaster by surprise. "After all, it is only what he has given me over these past few years. To borrow a Muggle phrase, Headmaster, Hallmark does not sell cards for sperm donors. James Potter is the only father I need and the only one I will ever claim. He loved me enough to die for me, and it seems that Snape has done nothing but regret that since it ever happened! "

Harry stormed out of the office, a few relics crashing to the floor in the wake of his unrestrained magic.

Dumbledore sighed into the emptiness. "_Professor_ Snape," he murmured to no one, touching the tip of his wand to his forehead to remove relevant memories for later perusal.

-----

Severus Snape pulled his head out of Dumbledore's Pensieve. The news of Harry's true parentage had shocked him. The boy's lack of response or even curiosity about the circumstances of it did _not_.

"It is only what I have earned," he replied stiffly to Dumbledore's questioning look. "And perhaps it very well is for the best. I would not know how to be a father to anyone and I certainly will not rely upon my own examples of it."

A scroll was brought into Dumbledore's office at that moment by a familiar snowy owl.

In atypical thoroughness and foresight, Harry had invoked blood adoption rituals, using his mother's marriage to James Potter as the reason for it, to make himself James' son both legally and magically, effectively ceasing any further manipulations on the matter by Dumbledore.

Snape read the scroll once it was passed over to him. It may have been his imagination, but Dumbledore believed he saw the briefest, saddest look of pride on the man's face. He may also have heard him whisper "Well done, my son. Well done."

-----

Blood truly ran thicker than water, however. Whenever Harry had a vision that spoke of imminent danger to the Professor's well-being, he found ways to warn the man. Whenever Voldemort's plans required Snape's participation, the man discovered ways to sabotage his own work.

Harry proved victorious one day, as he had always know he would.

Snape lay in the battlefield, dying, as he always had known _he_ would. Harry discovered him, knelt by his side, and looked into his eyes as he breathed towards his last.

"Would you have loved me if you had known?"

"I do . . not . . know." The man's breathing became painful to watch. "But . . . I . . . would have . . . found . . . out . . ."

It may have been the lingering heat from the battle, but witnesses claimed that Harry had wept.

--TBC--


	4. Deception

Chapter Four - Deception

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews, and my apologies for the delay. I am one of many victims of NaNoWriMo. The stereotype in question for this chapter is 'Tobias Snape Rivals Voldemort For Pure Evil!'

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

"You will never lay a hand on her again," Severus snarled at the quivering mass of flesh crouched at his feet. The stench of alcohol reeked throughout the air, and he fancied that he could almost hear years upon years of abuse within the walls howl throughout the very air.

Tobias Snape did not look up at his son, which only infuriated the young man further. "Get up," he hissed, kicking sharply at the other man's ribs.

He moaned and flecks of blood became visible at the corner of his mouth. Severus grabbed his hair and pulled his head sharply back.

The much-hated eyes opened -- and were hazy.

They were hazy in a way that Severus found chillingly familiar.

_Impossible._

_It can't be--Imperius?_

Other memories came to the forefront of his mind. Whenever his father flew into an alcoholic rage, he rarely would meet his son or wife's eyes. But when he did, there was haziness.

"_Finite incantantem._"

The words were whispered. Tobias slumped to the ground and remained motionless for a few minutes before finally stirring. The reaction confirmed all that Severus suspected and made him feel sick.

_Who has been cursing him? How? Why?_

_How did we not ever notice?_

"Severus?" he whispered softly, no disgust or hatred in his voice. "Severus . . . what has happened?" He sat up, wincing sharply and putting a hand to his ribs.

"Father," Severus said slowly, kneeling down on the filthy floor. "I need to look into your eyes. Will . . . will you trust me? I believe that I may know what has happened."

The man only nodded and held his head steady. Severus took a deep breath and whispered _"Legilimens_._"_

Hours later, Tobias Snape had ingested several healing cordials and lay sleeping next to his exhausted, disbelieving wife.

"Your grandfather has been cursing him all of this time?"

Severus nodded from his place on the floor. He held one of Tobias's wrists, constantly monitoring his pulse and ignoring the many spells that would have done the trick for him. It had been a simple task to root through the man's memories and find one common denominator. Cold fury grew within the pit of his stomach, outstripping anything the blasted Marauders had ever wrought within him. "He never accepted him, did he, Mother?"

A strange, unfamiliar fire grew in Eileen Prince-Snape's eyes. "Oh no, he didn't. And he knew I would never suspect --- oh, my Tobias. And Severus---oh, he will _pay_ for what he has stolen from us."

It went beyond the wasted years that the family had been forced to endure. Jeremiah Prince had stolen any chance that Tobias could lift a hand without his son or wife flinching. He had discovered the history of alcoholism in Tobias's family and done everything he could to make certain the addiction took hold and that his daughter would then be punished for the ghastly deed of marrying outside of Wizarding kind. No matter what the outcome was, Jeremiah was determined to have his revenge.

Unfortunately, he had taught both his daughter and grandson far too well for either to be content to know the truth without revenge of their own.

There would be times later when the family would have to sit together and work to uncover the full truth behind what had passed for their history. Tobias had sworn to go into treatment for his drinking and find some way of managing his temper -- the beatings had not ever been completely Jeremiah's fault. But for the time being, Severus Snape sat in the presence of both of his parents and felt a certain sense of peace for the first time in his life. The three of them were stubbornly strong, and none wished to give up.

Severus, before exiting his father's mind, took the precaution of leaving an unwelcome surprise for the next individual to try to use the man as a puppet once again.

The screams were finally silent, and Severus slept in peace.

//TBC//


	5. Atonement

Chapter Five - Atonement

Disclaimer: They still do not belong to me. More's the pity.

Stereotypes: James Potter was nothing more than a bully.

* * *

"Are you all right?" Potter hadn't left his side once the two of them had stumbled blindly out of the Shrieking Shack. Snape had fallen to his knees, terrified beyond anything he had ever experienced in his life.

"Am I all right?" he spat back, glaring hatefully into the other boy's eyes. "Am I all _right_? Lupin is a bloodthirsty _monster_ whom Black was more than happy to lead me to and you are asking if I am all _right?_"

"_Remus_ is a victim of a curse," Potter snapped back, the sympathy in his eyes evaporating. "He would have never agreed to what Sirius just tried to do and believe me when I say there will be consequences. Do NOT take out your ire on one who was just as much a victim as you!"

Snape's jaw snapped shut with an audible clang. James continued, his voice heated, "Can you imagine the fear that he must live with? Always terrified that others will label him a monster as you just did, always terrified each time he awakens from the transformation that he might have broken out and harmed someone? Can you imagine that kind of fear?"

In all honestly, Snape could not. But he understood intimately well what it was like to live according to fear and he found himself feeling a small amount of sympathy for the other boy.

"What happens now?" he asked dully, unable to meet Potter's eyes. "When will the school know about this?"

"They won't. Not from me." Potter looked back towards the hidden entrance to the Shack for several long moments. "Snape, I apologize."

"You saved my life," Snape replied bitterly. "You apologize for--"

"--not for that, you bloody git. For how I have treated you before. All of it."

Snape stared at the other boy's profile. "Why? Lily isn't here to be impressed by your words---"

"---this isn't for her." James met his eyes, loathing visible, though Snape could see that the emotion wasn't being directed towards him this time. "Have you ever read the Muggle story_ A Christmas Carol_?"

"I have heard of it," he replied cautiously. "My father has a fondness for Dickens." Snape as a rule tended to avoid anything that his father liked.

"A man, miserly and cruel, gets taught the meaning of Christmas by three spirits." Potter continued to meet his eyes. "After the last prank--when I embarrassed you so terribly in front of Lily and the others--I started having dreams. I didn't like what I saw."

"And so you apologize based on dreams?" Snape asked in disbelief.

"I apologize based on what could be," the boy replied cryptically. "And also because it is well overdue. Perhaps I've now learned the meaning of Christmas—or perhaps I understand the drivel that Lily has been telling me all along, that we all bleed red and should regard one another as brethren of sorts."

Snape silently accepted the hand the other boy offered and pulled himself off of the ground. The two of them began making their way back towards the castle. "I owe you my life, Potter," he found himself saying, with not nearly as much bitterness as before. "I accept your apology."

Something within James's heart relaxed. He never put much stock into what he heard in Divination classes, but the bleak future he had seen had been enough to force him to examine his own actions. No child of his should bear the brunt of his own mistakes.

"This doesn't mean that I like you," he replied lightly, "but I do not wish to be your enemy any longer."

"I will never like you, Potter," Snape replied, giving him a narrow look. "An apology will not make us friends."

"If I ever have a child, try not to hold me against him," James said, a serious note returning to his voice. "How I have behaved would not be his fault—"

"As I said," Snape replied slowly, "the apology has been accepted."

* * *

"That's enough out of you, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape said, staring the boy down. "It is hardly civilized to taunt other students over family matters."

Leaving his student staring at him with a slack-jaw, he looked over towards where Harry sat with Ron, playing wizard's chess. The boy looked up, unerringly meeting his eyes. Professor Snape nodded slightly at him, and Harry returned the gesture with a small grin of his own.

_Apology accepted._

---TBC---


	6. Punishment

Chapter Six -- Punishment

Disclaimer: Same song and dance.

Stereotype: Corporal punishment is the best thing ever!

A/N: This kind of thing makes my blood absolutely boil, as I'm sure some of you may have already deduced.

* * *

"Six." WHACK! A thick leather strap wrought another red welt on Harry's back. Blood rose to the surface of the skin, promising bruises by the end of the session.

"Seven." WHACK! His voice hitched at this blow and he had to consciously concentrate on keeping himself from moving or flinching. Any unauthorized movement guaranteed the detention being extended, and he damned well wasn't going to give Snape the satisfaction of having him at his mercy for any longer than necessary.

"Eight." The pain of the blow hardly registered now -- the nerves were overloaded and Harry felt that his head was swimming. Whatever else he might say for the git, the man had a strong arm on him. And, based on the memories that Harry had witnessed during Occlumency, he also had plenty of inspiration.

"Nine." Lower, sharper, almost enough to make him cry out. His knuckles were whitened from their tight desperate grip on the edge of his professor's desk.

"Ten." The last blow--no softer than the others. Snape sniffed, gazing with disdain at the flesh he had assaulted so clinically before.

"See too it that I do not catch you sabotaging students' work again," he said snidely. "And get out of my sight."

Harry pulled down his shirt, refusing to wince as the tender flesh was abraded by the cloth. With the first blow, he had come to a sad realization that Snape wasn't even present during this type of detention. He was beating the ghost of James Potter in his mind, unaware that the son, not the father, was lying before him.

* * *

Harry left the classroom and walked slowly up to the Infirmary. Poppy Pomfrey gasped at the wounds on his back and commenced with various healing rituals, all the while murmuring low, nasty things under her breath about the antiquated punishments still permitted by the school charter. A low voice was heard outside of the Infirmary and Harry stiffened, shivers running down his spine.

"Don't tell him I told you," he begged the nurse, his voice small. "Don't tell him--"

"--I won't have to," she said, patting his hand kindly. "And don't worry, my dear--he won't be coming in here tonight."

That small measure of kindness brought tears to Harry's eyes. He spent the rest of that night in the Infirmary and joined his Housemates for breakfast the next morning.

"Harry!" Ron raised his hand to grasp his shoulder. Harry flinched and pulled away.

Ron slowly lowered his hand. "It happened again?"

Harry nodded mutely. Ron's eyes burned with anger. "I swear, one of these days, that old bat won't be able to do this to you anymore."

"I know, Ron." Words that were rote. No emotion sustained them, and Harry's apathy alarmed his friend further.

Severus Snape observed this activity from the Head Table and frowned. Poppy noticed his expression and met his eyes with a cold, condemning glare. "We reap what we sow," she said in his ear. "Don't ever claim I did not warn you or Albus. Students need a firm hand, yes, but they _never_ deserve to fear that hand!"

Snape turned away from her and unwittingly met Potter's eyes. He saw no hatred, no anger, no fear. The boy's eyes were dead.

* * *

Her words came to mind several years later, during his trial for Dumbledore's murder. Potter had done the right thing--the _noble_ thing, his mind snidely supplied--and testified on his behalf. He would be spared Azkaban, but the Wizengamot still wanted punishment.

Potter was given the honor of bestowing it.

Snape shivered under the green, tormented look, eerily reminiscent of that time they had locked eyes in the Great Hall. "Remove your shirt, Snape. And lean over that desk," Potter said softly, his hands holding Snape's own leather strap.

_And so things will come full circle?_

Words died in his throat, and he silently complied with the command.

When the boy simply draped the strap over his shoulder and stood back, his arms almost collapsed from under him. Potter had been given a perfect opportunity for revenge, yet had put it aside. Why?

"It would have made me no better than you."

It took him a moment to realize that he had spoken his question out loud. The bitter truth in the boy's words settled heavily into his chest.

He had beaten the boy. Yet somehow, the boy remained unbroken. The knowledge would torment Snape longer than anything else anyone could do to him.

The green eyes were clear once again.

--TBC--


End file.
